


A Living Growing Thing

by EntreNous



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Basement of Doom, Cohabitation, M/M, Plants, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-19
Updated: 2004-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 13:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike thinks Xander could make the basement a little more livable.  And everyone likes plants, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Living Growing Thing

“Miserable down here,” Spike remarked from his vantage point on the couch.

“Yeah, well, no one’s making you stay,” Xander muttered. He stopped fiddling with the coffee pot and looked at Spike pointedly. “I mean, no one is, right? You’re not here because of a curse or a jinx, or just under good old plain threat of death, are you?”

“Told you before -- all the rains flooded my crypt --”

“Ah, for the California droughts of yore, when an honest vampire could camp out in a crypt without worries.”

“Don’t get cheeky. And everywhere that’s a crypt is not so much dank as it is sopping wet, so I’m here ‘til things dry out a bit.”

“Great. That’s just great.”

A few minutes passed as the rains pelted the house and Xander officially broke the coffee maker.

“Fuck.”

“That why your girl took off then?”

Xander looked up quickly and frowned. “The unreliable coffee maker?”

“No, you -- because of the depressing . . . I hate to call it ‘atmosphere’ . . . down here.”

“Hey. It’s fine down here, okay? And I’ll have you know that Anya didn’t break up with me and skip town because of the fact that I live in less than desirable accommodations. She did all that because of _me_.” Xander paused. “That actually seemed like it would sound better inside my head.”

Spike snorted. “Don’t doubt it. But at least you could . . . I don’t know, try to make this cave livable? Dress it up a bit.”

“And I’m hearing home decorating advice from a dead guy who lives in a cemetery why?”

“Fine. Be that way. Just thought it might help you, and your bright shining romantic life, to have a place that wouldn’t drive potential lovers to run screaming out of town.”

“I’ll keep all that in mind, thanks so much,” Xander said bitterly. But despite himself, he found his eyes darting around the basement. Okay, so the washer and dryer were kind of obvious, but he couldn’t get rid of them without making his mom hopping mad. Plus, why direct resentment at an appliance that provided hot socks at his disposal any time of day?

The carpet, the paneling on the walls . . . nothing he could do about that unless he wanted to spend time ripping up the shag on the floor to see if the concrete underneath was pretty. And the furniture . . . well, if he could afford an actual bed, the gross couch wouldn’t be there. In short, he couldn’t think of anything big he could do without dipping into nonexistent funds. So everything basically stayed.

When Spike sauntered out that night, braving the wet for the siren call of Jack Daniels, Xander shuffled around the place, poking at various items and frowning. Spike was right. Even if he couldn’t do a complete makeover, he could dress it up a little nicer. He could, for instance, get -- 

“Plants!” Xander exclaimed. “Everyone likes plants. They’d probably actually like the dank . . . I mean, _moist_ , air down here, and it’d add another living, growing thing to the scene, unlike Monsieur Le Bloody, and . . . cheap! Plants are cheap!”

Resolved and sort of pleased with himself, Xander went to sleep that night for the first time not thinking of Anya, but rather wondering where he could pick up a few ferns.

* * *

In the morning, he left a grumpy blond vampire in the basement, pretending not to notice when Spike burrowed into the covers that Xander had recently vacated. If Spike wanted to curl up in some kind of hidey-hole, then he’d just be more impressed with Xander’s efforts to spruce up the place when he awoke.

Whistling, and not really noticing when he’d started caring what Spike thought of his interior design efforts, Xander made the ten minute walk downtown picturing the corners in which he’d put the leafy greens.

He was well past the army-and-navy place, and just around the corner from the Espresso Pump when he saw two makeshift signs in front of a new-looking storefront: “Plants!” and “Cheap!”

“Hey, did you all just move in here?” Xander asked the plant clerk affably. The guy smiled in a slightly creepy way, but Xander figured a person had to be a bit of a freak to want to indulge his entrepreneurial streak in Sunnydale. 

“Yes -- in fact, we just opened this morning. And as you can see, we’re having an enormous sale to celebrate!” The man gestured around at the wealth of cacti, greens, and flowering baskets around him and then wrung his hands together enthusiastically.

“Great timing,” Xander said. “I need plants. Lots of them, and right now. I’m trying to get a new kind of ‘atmosphere’ going at my place.”

“You’ve made the right choice,” the man replied. “In fact, since we’re just starting up, we’re offering free delivery! You just have to promise me one thing.”

Xander got himself past the word “free” and looked up. “What’s that?”

“You have to promise that you’ll feed your plants.”

* * *

Xander finished rearranging the African Violets, shoved the row of potted ferns into a kind of screen around the washer and dryer, and set out the ivy plants on top of the bookcases and workshop area. After he’d assured the shop owner multiple times that, yes, he’d feed the damn plants, he’d made it back just before the delivery van. Turned out that with all the cheap spider plants Xander had bought the owner had graciously thrown in some kind of unidentifiable lush tree-plant. Xander briefly considered calling to ask what it was called, but then he shrugged it off. After surveying the room he gave the Plant of Unknown Genus (PUG) a place of honor between the fold out couch and the barcalounger.

A few hours before sundown, and Xander’s skin buzzed with anticipation for Spike to wake up. Let him try to call his place miserable now. 

Spike emerged from under the covers, rubbing the palm of his hand against his eyes and blinking. He gave a distinct shriek when he turned his legs off the bed only to come into contact with the PUG. “The hell?” he shouted. Then, to Xander’s satisfaction, Spike’s jaw dropped. 

“Well?” Xander asked anxiously. He knew Spike would likely start in on him for getting plants that were poncy or something, or just make fun of him for following Spike’s dictate that he find some way to improve the habitat they were currently sharing.

“Looks nice,” Spike finally said. “I like the . . . uh . . .”

“African violets,” Xander said helpfully.

“Yeah. And the ferns make a good touch.”

“So you think it looks okay then,” Xander said in relief. Who knew that Spike liking the looks of the place would make him feel glad?

“I do,” Spike agreed, and they half-smiled at one another. “But,” Spike continued, and Xander braced himself for the payoff. “But I don’t like this one,” he finished, gesturing towards the PUG.

“How come?” Xander asked. He joined Spike where he was still perched on the edge of the mattress, and they studied the plant together. 

“Looks shady,” Spike said.

“Spike, plants are supposed to cast some kind of shad -- oh, you mean, ‘shady’ as in up to no good? Uh, I think we don’t have to worry about the evil master plans of the Plant of Unknown Genus.”

“That what they’re calling it these days?” Spike asked suspiciously. “How’d you choose it anyway?”

“I didn’t,” Xander clarified. “I bought the other stuff, and there was free delivery, and the owner threw this one in at no extra cost --”

Spike shifted to stare at him, and waved his hand in front of Xander’s eyes.

“Quit it,” Xander protested.

“I’m just checking to see if you’re still in there and thinking with that brain of yours. Honestly, Xander, free? Delivery and no extra cost? Bet the other ones were cheap, too.”

“What are you saying, Spike?”

“I’m _saying_ that growing up on the Hellmouth should have taught you that everything has its price. Why would some sod give you all this free stuff just because you purchased everything else at full price?”

“It’s called good acumen, Spike -- growing a business with incentives -- and nothing was purchased at full price -- it was all on sale. Then he just threw in the PUG, probably because he thought I was a nice guy, and . . .” Xander bit his lip when he realized what he was saying.

Spike swore and jumped to his feet. “That’s it. Flood or no flood, I’m not staying here with your mysterious, ill-intentioned PUG.”

“Look, just calm down. You’re fine here, okay? We don’t want you getting all mildew-y or something from the wet -- I mean, that could happen, what with the corpse thing you’ve got going. Let’s just go to tonight’s meeting, and when you’ve had your blood at Giles, you’ll feel better.” Xander nodded decisively, not bothering to question why he was now convincing Spike to retain his house-guest status. 

“All right,” Spike said reluctantly. “But only because the Watcher owes me money. And as soon as these rains quit, I’m out of here.”

“Fine, fine,” Xander said cheerfully. “Now let’s leave the plants to do their thing and re-oxidize this place.”

* * *

The meeting was something of a non-event, and Giles sent everyone packing early. 

Xander ambled along the sidewalk next to Spike and tried to suss out why he felt like Spike should definitely come back with him. It wasn’t like he’d been happy when Spike showed up a few days ago, but maybe he was just lonely enough to want the company. That didn’t really explain why he wanted Spike’s approval on the ambiance, but he’d figure that one out later.

Halfway home and the downpour kicked in. They broke into a run at the same time, skittering around trash cans, and some fledges cringing under tree cover, and hustled into the house by the front door to get out of the rain faster. 

“Hey, dad,” Xander raised a half-wave to his father who was watching television. He got a grunt in return, no inquiries about the wet punk guy with him, and went cheerfully down the stairs to the basement.

“Bet the plants like the humidity outside,” Xander observed to Spike as they made their way.

“Yeah, I suppose they . . . uh, Xander?”

“Yeah?” Xander had headed straight to the bathroom and was swiping at his wet head with an already-damp towel.

“ _What_ plants?”

Xander rushed back out to the main area and got a good look around. No more African violets! No creepy-crawly ivy! No more overflowing spider-plants! No tall and feathery row of ferns! “How the -- we just -- there were -- ”

There aren’t now,” Spike pointed out. “But _look_!”

There in the corner -- in a _different_ corner from where Xander had placed it -- stood the PUG, looking greener and healthier than ever.

Xander waved at the bare room in dismay. “Who the hell would steal plants? And leave my lamp and stereo?”

“Which I brought back, I’d like to point out,” Spike put in, and Xander nodded.

“Right! My broken stereo you returned, and just take leafy greens? I mean . . . but why did they leave PUG? It’s clearly the nicest one! Too heavy? Too . . . ”

“Too evil, I’d wager,” Spike said wish a raised eyebrow.

“Oh come off it already, Spike. A plant? Cannot be evil. And that still doesn’t explain what happened to the other ones.”

“Alexander Lavelle Harris!” a shrill voice called from upstairs. “Get up here and explain this to me!”

Xander and Spike exchanged a look, and Xander took the stairs two at a time to find his mother gesticulating wildly towards the backyard. 

“What’s up? Why are you calling me by my you’re-in-trouble-now! name?”

“Because you’re in trouble,” his mother said furiously. “Do you want to tell me why you did this? This isn’t like that scheme of yours in sixth grade to pave everything over and put wooden ramps up outside, is it? I thought you’d outgrown that skateboarding habit!”

Xander followed his mother’s pointing hand and saw that the backyard was completely bare. Grass rooted out. Trees stripped of their leaves. The few flowers his mother coaxed out of the bushes gone, along with their attendant greens.

“I didn’t do it!” Xander exclaimed.

“Well, then who did? And why? Why would someone want to hurt my yard?” Xander’s mom looked close to tears, and he immediately shifted from defensive mode to consoling mode. His mom didn’t have much she was proud of, but she had some kind of weird pleasure in the fact that they kept their lawn up, unlike most of their neighbors.

“I don’t know, okay? But we’ll fix it. I’ll help you re-seed, and I can even get you some hedges at the new plant store downtown.”

“What new plant store downtown?” his mom asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“The one that opened today, where I picked up a bunch of plants . . . which are currently missing from downstairs, and you’re not currently holding them hostage in exchange for the de-greening of the lawn are you?”

“Xander, don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know anything about plants you have, but there is no new plant store downtown. I was shopping around this afternoon, and I would have seen it.”

“Between the Espresso Pump and the army-and-navy place?” Xander asked weakly.

“No, of course not. That’s that bad-news storefront. Everything that moves in there fails, and people don’t want to lease it, so the owner started having the building destroyed this afternoon. He’s paving it and turning it into a parking lot. I saw the wrecking ball when I was on my way home.”

Xander sputtered for a moment, trying to make sense of this information and his own shopping excursion earlier that day. “But . . . you . . . but . . .”

“Xander!” a voice from the basement called out, and Xander turned, startled at the dismay he heard in Spike’s holler.

“We’ll figure out the grass and stuff later, ‘kay?” he called over his shoulder as he made for the lower level.

“I know what happened to the other plants,” Spike’s muffled voice announced. Muffled, because the Plant of Unknown Origin had him in a kind of a headlock, and seemed to be snuffling up and down his body.

“Oh my god,” Xander cried. “What did you do to the PUG? Why is it moving? Is it possessed?”

“It’s not possessed,” Spike shouted, as he attempted to disentangle himself from the greens twining around his midsection. “I didn’t do anything to it! It’s a damn zombie plant!”

“A zombie . . . a zombie plant? You mean it eats human brains?” Xander grit his teeth and sprang over to Spike, attempting to pull the tendrils off the vampire. 

“No, you dolt . . . that’d be a zombie human! This is a zombie plant, so it eats other plants!”

“Holy -- that explains the other plants disappearing, and the mess in the yard where the grass was -- but -- why is it -- damn it! Leggo, you stupid green monster! -- why is it trying to eat _you_?”

“Ran out of other sources of nourishment, didn’t it?” Spike yelled. “What did the man at the store tell you about this thing?”

“He didn’t say anything about that one, remember? -- but he did make me promise to make sure I fed all of the -- oh fuck,” Xander swore.

“Forget that! Do something resembling some course of action!” Spike gasped as the plant prodded his middle with something that looked like a pod.

Xander looked frantically around the basement, seeking anything that would -- oh!

When Xander poured the bleach into the soil, the plant actually gave an audible screech. But then it just whimpered as it shriveled and died in an ungainly fashion. 

“Ha!” Xander triumphantly told the brown segments flopping out of the pot. “Now who’s eating who?”

Spike looked pointedly at him, and Xander rolled his eyes. “Fine, so that didn’t make any sense. But hey, here I was thinking the washer and dryer were bringing the place down, but if they weren’t in the corner I wouldn’t have had the bleach to douse this thing into its last rites.”

“Huzzah for the washer,” Spike said weakly. He gave the pot a hearty kick and dropped down onto the mattress.

Xander put the bleach away and washed his hands. He hovered over Spike for a moment before clearing his throat and flopping down beside him. “Um. Sorry the plant tried to eat you, Spike.”

“Not your fault,” Spike said. “Though if you’d listened to me earlier --”

“Yeah, I know, we wouldn’t have had this problem,” Xander sighed. But then all at once he turned and grabbed Spike’s wrist. “Hey! But I did listen to you earlier, and that’s what got us into this mess! You were all with the snide remarks about the ‘miserable’ and ‘depressing’ nature of my place, and that’s why I . . .”

Spike glanced up and looked at Xander seriously. “You did all this purchase-and-decorate mission on my behalf? So I’d think this was a nicer place?”

“Maybe,” Xander said uncertainly. “Maybe just to get you to shut up with complaining about how gross and ugly it was down here.”

“Maybe for another reason,” Spike offered and Xander laughed nervously. 

“Why would you say that?” Xander asked. He started to edge away from Spike, trying to sit up on the bed, but Spike reversed the grab-and-hold and had Xander’s arm held fast. 

“You care what I think,” Spike said in amazement. “You want me to like it here . . . hell, you want me to stay, don’t you?”

“Uh . . .” Xander tried to wriggle away, but Spike wasn’t letting him go anywhere. 

“Oh fine. Promised myself I wouldn’t . . . but this will take for damn near forever if I don’t say it. Pet, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

Xander looked at Spike doubtfully. “What’s that?”

Spike actually ducked his head. “Well. My crypt didn’t flood. Not in the literal sense.”

“It didn’t?” Xander asked.

“No. I may have . . . made that part up.”

“You lied about the rain and the flood and the crypt . . . just so you could stay here?” Xander asked. “Why? I thought you hated it here?”

“Not just so I could stay _here_ ,” Spike corrected him. “It isn’t about the accommodations, pet.”

“So. Because you wanted to stay with me?” Xander asked, his voice breaking a bit on the last two words.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Spike muttered, and drew Xander toward him, catching his mouth in a kiss. 

Moments passed in which Xander went from making surprised noises to helpless noises to encouraging noises. Spike pulled away slightly, brushing the hair out of Xander’s eyes and watching him intently.

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” Xander asked softly.

“Yeah,” Spike replied finally. “I’ll stay.”

“I could try to make it nicer here for you . . . for us,” Xander said, flushing slightly.

“All right. But no more plant stores of dubious provenance.”

“Okay. And no more Plants of Uncertain Genus. Maybe I could try to have more light in here, though.”

Spike nodded and glanced around the room. “Right about now I think we could do with less.”


End file.
